


i was there tomorrow [beatles ff]

by jiminception



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Beatles - Freeform, F/M, Johnlennon, Multi, georgeharrison - Freeform, paulmccartney - Freeform, ringostarr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 23:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminception/pseuds/jiminception
Summary: girl travels in time, girl meets the beatles, a lot happens. ongoing fic we hope I don't decide to abandon!!





	1. the dive

You ran as fast as you could, your breath whitening the cold winter air. 'Come back here, you bitch!' As you heard the words cutting the air closer and closer, you could feel your heart racing as if it could go any faster than it already was going. You were crying but no tears would come out, the wind drying them up before they could run down your almost frozen cheeks, making seeing the way difficult. Panting, you slipped on the wet leaves that hadn't yet disappeared with the cold and tripped down to the shore of the thankfully now frozen lake. The steps were right around the corner, and with a struggle you were able to wrap your sore fist around the pocketknife you had secretly bought in case this moment came. The man slowly walked up to your laid on the mud and snow body with a grin from ear to ear, stopping at your feet and chuckling as you dragged yourself away from him to the top of the frozen lake, blade pointed at him.

'Get off!' You yelled, breathless, tears finally able to drip down your face. The man didn't care much, as you kept on yelling and shaking your blade in the air. 'Let go!' He grabbed at your foot and you screamed at the top of your lungs, frustration arising, wasn't anybody around? There was never anyone around. Getting angry at your persistence, the man stretched his arm to reach for your jacket, his fist taking away from your space to freely breathe. 

'Nobody's listening,' he whispered. You stood in almost the middle of the lake; you had stopped caring about the dangers of the ice breaking at any moment, as even that would be the perfect escape. You wouldn't mind drowning if it meant you could escape. Everything was silent. 'You should've gotten by now that it is pointless to scream. No one will ever come and save you.'

And as he said this, your body was filled with anger. You refused to believe that there was no escape for you, as it hurt too much; and so, in a fit of survival, anger and courage, you swung your blade in the air as you screamed your lungs out. The knife slid over his face and cut his cheek, your arm continuing and stabbing through the ice and easing the breakage of where you had been struggling. You slipped into the water, gasping for air, and the man only had time to stumble back as to not fall in the lake too.

You inhaled and water filled your lungs, arms waving around in an attempt to come back up. The lake was dark and deep, and the ice covered all of the lake's surface. Without being able to see where you were going, and with your body getting tired and cold, you gave up as you felt yourself sink slowly into the seemingly bottomless lake, eyes closing and mind falling asleep.


	2. Awaken

'She's definitely dead.'

'If she's dead you're gonna be drumming on a cell, so how about you help?'

'I think we should just call an emergency vehicle or something, we might just end up actually killing her if we -'

'Alright lads, just do as he wants or he won't shut up!'

You choked suddenly as you felt water going up your throat. Your eyes shot open and you instinctively rolled to your side, purging whatever water you had left in your system, gasping for hair. 'Oh, thank god.' You rubbed your eyes, swollen and dry from the cold, and blinked repeatedly to try and make sense of the faces in front of you, head still pounding as if you were had hit it hard. 'How many fingers am I holding up?'

'Three?' You mumbled, before the trembling hand was slapped away from your face to be replaced by another face, and it was a smiling one.

'Hello, love,' the man grinned, taking a drag from his cigarette.

'Don't smoke near her!' The man who had just asked you to count his fingers says, annoyed.

'She's a strong one, don't worry,' he continued. 'What happened to you?'

You attempted to get up, but your legs were still weak, making you almost fall to your knees before the third man helped you up. 'Her clothes are rather weird.'

'Thank you,' You mumbled, feeling like you just ran the marathon. They raised a brow at each other.

'Foreign bird?' the smoker chuckled between drags, 'What a sweet accent.' Your brain was still shuffling trying to make sense of the situation, but you quickly processed his remark and frowned, attempting to clean up your jeans with the free hand that was not holding on for dear life to the other man. 'Not much of a talker, are you?'

'Leave her alone, John,' the finger man said, visibly annoyed. Turning to you, he held your arm with a caring strength. 'Do you know where you are or what happened?' You took a second to answer, and he kept going. 'Come with us, we'll take you to the hospital.' You pulled from him.

'It's alright, I don't want to bother you,' You quickly said, shaking your cold hands apologetically, praying that your legs would regain their full strength soon.

'It's not a bother, love,' the forth man finally spoke up.

'Can't we just call 911?' They tilted their heads in confusion.

'911?'

'Miss, you're in bad shape, it's no bother. We'll take you to the hospital,'

The man again pulled for you and you stepped back. 'I'm not going with you, I don't even know who you are! As far as I know, you could've done something to me while,' You puffed, nervous. The four man did look very odd, in long black coats, black suits underneath and bowl cuts; like something out of a cult.

They stared at you with big eyes, and then at each other. The smoker blew his last puff out and smiled. 'This is why I love foreigners.'

*****

'Watch your steps,' Paul mumbled as he and George aided you out of the car, parked by the road right by what looked like the back of a very tall building. You cursed, feeling how sore your leg muscles were; it was as if you had been in the same position for far too long.

'For God's sake, Paul, please hurry up,' a man who waited by the door mumbled in an annoyed tone, watching you in both curiosity and judgement. You entered through a spacious and slightly dark hallway, papers and records on the walls, and you were in both awe and confusion at the amount of information surrounding you. For a moment you felt like you were in a movie, and it seemed so out of this world that you started to actually believe this had to be something you weren't supposed to see. Everything seemed so strange yet so familiar, and your head was pounding even harder trying to decipher everything.

'Mr. Lennon!' One man walked by and handed an harmonica to John, and that was when suddenly everything seemed to fit together, as if you had just solved the puzzle. No, it couldn't be.

'Ah, finally it's back! Thank you,' John smiled, looking down to you, and his eyebrows raised a bit in confusion at your face of horror. Your legs felt stiffer, feet unable to work all over again.

'What's the matter?' Paul asked, feeling you heavier than before. You looked at him without being able to blink, no words left to speak. 'Hey?'

'N-nothing,' you managed to stutter, furrowing your brows and forcing your legs to step forward. You could feel the man from earlier keeping his gaze over you, as if he felt he should watch you. You finally settled in small office with cozy furniture. Paul sat you down in a couch and you cursed, feeling cramps all over your body. He offered you a glass of water and a lady in white walked in, small first-aid kit looking box in her hand. She took a stethoscope from around her neck and her eyebrow raised at your choice of outfit. You clenched your jaw as everyone's eyes were on you and slid your jacket off as you mumbled a quiet 'sorry,' to her. The nurse sighed and quickly checked for your heart rate, as well as tension and muscles. The whole room was quiet during this, besides the on and off snickering between John and Ringo, and Paul frantically asking if some biscuits could help with the sugar levels.

'Everything seems fine,' she quickly crammed her utensils back into the box without looking at you. 'Some rest and food and your strength should be back.' She finally looked up to you, 'and you should change, unless you want to get a cold.' You had totally forgotten about how completely soaked you still were, the winter weather unable to dry you off on the way here.

'Thank you,' you quickly said, but she was already gone.

The man from earlier rubbed at his temples as soon as the nurse left the room. 'What the bloody hell is going on?'

'Brian, she was drowning, we weren't gonna leave her there,' Paul retorted.

'What do I care? You're not London's Super Man,' Brian lit a cigarette, 'for all I know you might've just brought a manic fan into our studio...' he puffed out, 'I'd rather you kept those in your hotel rooms.'

'Don't worry Bri, she has no idea who we are.' John joined them in the smoking.

'Yeah, she's some sort of foreigner,' Ringo continued.

'Wouldn't be the first time some girl makes up a story to get in, and you know that damn well!' I felt George's gaze fall over me after Brian's words. I quickly looked away, fidgeting at the zipper of my jacket.

'Brian, she's fine, I just know it,'

'Because you just know everything, don't you, John,' Brian sighed in annoyance, grabbing at the papers in the table. 'Look, I don't really even care. Just get her out of here, she's ruining the couch with all that water.' He stomped out of the office closing the door behind him and the five of you just looked at each other in silence.

'What a bummer,' John smiled.

'Where are we?' I finally managed to blurt out.

'Listen, you can stop pretending now,' he continued, stepping forward, and squatted in front of you.

'John,' Paul called in annoyance.

'You know rather well where you are, love.' You opened your mouth but nothing came out, and John nodded, his eyes closed. It felt like a dream, and you wondered if the water was so cold that it was making you hallucinate. There was just no possible way this was happening. 'And you know just as well who we are.' He shook the ash off of his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. You gripped the fabric of your jacket tightly. 'It's alright, love. Who wouldn't want to have such a pretty bird come all this way just to be next to us?' You felt your fingers falling asleep. John put his cigarette out and reached his hand on your knee. 'It's only fair we give you what you want,'

John didn't have time to finish speaking as he felt a hand slapping across his face, the sound echoing through the tiled room. 'Fuck off, John Lennon.' You huffed, furious that he was exactly like they said in the books. Paul and Ringo choked in laughter, no one quite believing what was happening. 'You think you're hot shit?' you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warming up. 'Look at me, I'm John-fucking-Lennon, the king of rock n' roll, and I can just touch women as I fucking please!' You sat up, shaking your finger at him and putting on a terrible british accent which you weren't sure where it came from, 'Do you know what the word respect means? Should I spell it our for you? R-E-S-P-E-C-T, there, how's that, you fucking prick? get your dirty hands off of me!'

You only came back to reality (if that was real at all) when the silence filled the room and you realized everyone was staring at you with jaws dropped, including John who was in the floor. Ringo chuckled. 'That was well deserved, Johnny.'

You suddenly felt your face completely redden at the realization of what you had done. Your body was filled with fear thinking that you had just done all that and you were locked in a room with four men you didn't know. It was if all of the anger over what had happened with that man at the lake earlier had finally poured out and John had been the victim of it all, his actions just reminding of everything that has happened to you. John sat up and frowned at you, pulling another cigarette from his packet. 'Fucking bitch,'

'John!' Paul retorted again.

'What, Paul? Did you see the way she spoke to me?' He looked back at you. 'Should've left you in that muddy pond, that's what you deserved.' You couldn't believe this was happening, and the adrenaline in your body was making you feel like you could explode at any moment. 'I'm gonna work,' he stomped out of the room, leaving you alone with the others.

'I'm terribly sorry for John,' Paul quickly apologized, his hand on your shoulder, 'he's just...'

'A prick, that's what he is,' George finally said. 'He was right, though.' He stared at Paul.

'Look, just because she knows who we are doesn't mean she's a crazy fan,' Paul continued. 'You think a crazy fan would speak to John the way she did?'

'Well, John has said some questionable things,' Ringo said. 'She might just love us and hate John.'

Paul sighed. 'Look, I don't care. We found her in a ditch and she's obviously lost, fan or not I'll help her if she needs.' He grabbed his coat and slid it on. 'I'll go and see if I can find some clothes for her. You guys stay here?' Ringo shrugged. 'Then we'll speak later.' Paul looked back at you. 'Let's go?'

*****

'I know I had something here,' he pulled at the what you could swear was the fifteenth drawer of clothes, 'You know how birds are, they just always forget,' he looked at your confused face and nodded, keeping quiet. 'Ah! Here it is!' He pulled a green and orange floral print dress and held it in front of his body. 'What do you reckon, rather pretty, yeah?' He looked back at your jeans and puffy winter coat, black boots on. 'Well, it's not really your style, but...'

'It's great,' you quickly said, stretching your arm to grab it. He stared at you in silence with a smile. You quietly spoke. 'Where can I change?'

'Oh, right,' he nodded quickly, 'sorry. There's a bathroom down the hall,' You smiled awkwardly and quickly ran to the bathroom, locking the room behind you and sliding down to the ground. This could not be real. You were in paul McCartney's house — at least it seemed like it — but he was young, and John Lennon was alive, and they were all together, and- you splashed your face with cold water and rubbed hard, hoping it would make you wake up from this crazy dream. This was ridiculous, what had even happened? What sort of time travel joke was this? It was the most insane possibility but it was the only one that actually seemed to make sense. That is, unless this was really all a morbid dream you were having. You stared at the dress laying on the floor, as its typical 1960s print gave you headaches. You needed answers, but all you could think of was of all of the time traveling movies where everything would turn to shit when the person from the future confessed the truth, and as crazy as the idea that that's what was happening is, you didn't want to ruin everything and not be able to go back, just in case.

You slid the dress on and finally stepped out, being greeted by Paul who awaited you in the hallway. 'Oh, you look beautiful!' He exclaimed, but all you could do was smile awkwardly and gaze away.

'Do you have a towel? For my hair,'

'Oh, yes, of course,' he quickly grabbed one from the bathroom's cabinet and hand it to you. You gestured him to hold your clothes that you had on your arms so you could dry your hair.

Paul broke the silence. 'Does everyone dress like you where your from?'

You bit your lip. 'Yeah, I guess.' You could feel his confusion and curiosity as you avoided his gaze.

'They're like, working clothes.' He continued, and a cheeky smile grew on his face. 'I reckon I rather see that one on you.'

You handed him the towel back. 'I reckon I didn't ask for your opinion, Paul.' He parted his lips in surprise at the answer, but it quickly turned into laughter, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

'Dear god, where did you come from?'

*****

'Lads, we're back!' Paul announced as we walked in the studio, and I placed the donuts we had bought on the way back. 'What's going on?'

You looked around, not quite knowing what to do or how to act. These boys didn't even know your name and yet Paul was bringing you into their studio, The Beatles studio. George was fiddling with his guitar when you walked in, and you felt his eyes quickly moved to you in, watching your every move. 'What is she doing here?' He asks in indifference. You froze, worrying that they would kick you out — truth was, you had no where to go.

'She won't bother, lads,' Paul continued, grabbing at his bass and smiling in reassurance at you.

'And you decided that?' George went back to his guitar.

'Let her be,' you heard John say from the back, quickly walking closer to the door that divided part of the studio. Your body stiffened, as he shot you a devilish smile and you realized he was no where near speaking out of kindness. 'Since she wants it so much.' He walked back to the recording area and finished his cigarette. You sighed in exhaustion and fell back on the couch in the small lounge area. you and George sat in silence and you listened to the chords in his guitar go up and down as he calmly tuned it.

'Can I ask a question?' you quietly but assertively said. He looked up at you. 'What's the date?' He gazes up at the clock on the wall that gave both time and date.

'It's the 12th of may.'

'Of what?' He raised a brow.

'1966, of course.' You nodded and smiled as a thanks, and quickly pulled at one of the donuts you had just brought, taking a big bite out of it. George raised a brow at you. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I'm great, I just,' you sighed behind the powdered sugar. 'Must have amnesia or something...'

'George!' You heard John calling for the man. He quickly sat up and walked into the recording area, eyes always gazing over you.

The band recorded for about an hour before finishing off the song. You recognized the tune as the one from 'I'm Only Sleeping', and tried to make sense of this nonsense in your head. It was may of 1966, you were at The Beatles studio... They were probably recording the Revolver album. It seemed ridiculous, these things only happened in movies! Yet here you were, watching it all happen before your eyes. When they finally stepped out, they congratulated the rest of the staff. John stepped out onto the lounge are and lit a cigarette. You must've been staring so intently at it that he noticed, pulling another one out for you. 'Care for a cig?'

'Thank you,' you quickly lit it and took a drag, scrunching your nose at the intensity of the tobacco. John raised a brow at you and grinned. 'It's not as strong where I'm from.' He watched you as you finally seemed to relax for the first time since they had found you. there was something about you that he couldn't really understand, and that made him mad, but so called to you at the same time. Maybe it was that he liked challenges, or people who hurt him, really.

'And where's that?'

You pause, shaking the ash off of the cigarette. 'Far away,' you purse your lips, avoiding his gaze. John smiles.

'Fine, don't tell me.' he leaned back onto the wall. 'What about a name?'

You looked up at him, nervous. Everybody knows that when you go back in time you cannot give out information that will alter history. What if you accidentally broke The Beatles up or, who knows, made all their future music different, just by letting John Lennon know your name?

'YN.'

John grinned. 'See, that's not so hard, is it?' He stood up right. 'Isn't that a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty bird.'

'Don't call me that.' You felt your blood start to boil at his remark. John seemed to have the power to make all of the anger that you so carefully kept inside of yourself come right out. He bit his tongue, putting his cigarette out as he watched the other band members coming closer.

'I'll find out, you know?' You clenched your jaw, nervous. 'I always do. You can't hide forever, little girl.'


	3. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YC — your country

You sat down at Paul's living room with the four men, a glass of wine which Paul carefully poured between your fingers. 'So, ...' he smiled, gazing up from his records to look at you. You stiffened, not sure if you should keep on revealing yourself. 'You have a name, don't you?'

'Yeah,' you stutter, and Ringo chuckles.

'You're scaring her, Macca!'

'Oh, she's not scared of anything, Richie,' John joined with a grin. 'Right, love?' You weren't sure if John was just being himself or if he was purposely pushing your buttons because he knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself, but it was working, and he knew it.

'It's YN.'

'That's a beautiful name!' Paul smiled small, fingers running through the records but eyes still watching you.

'And where are you from, really?' George broke his silence, gulping some of his wine down.

'That's...' you stutter a bit, 'you wouldn't know.'

'Try us, really!' Ringo chirped in curiosity. You bit your lip, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You gulped some wine down too, hoping it would make the anxiety go away.

'You're killing us with anticipation, YN!' John grinned behind a cigarette.

'I'm from YC,' they looked at you in sudden curiosity.

'So that's why you look like that? I haven't been there, really,' Ringo exclaimed.

'Ringo,' all Paul did was go on calling for the friends.

'That explains the funny accent,' John adds, popping on the couch next to you.

'At least I don't sound like the Queen.'

'I'd rather sound like the Queen than the illiterate,'

'John!'

'What is your problem with me, I'd like to know?' you bursted out. 'I swear your superiority complex is gonna cost you your life, John Lennon!' With your blood boiling, you stormed out the room and out the back door.

'Great job, John.'

*****

You sat on the step leading to the patio, face buried on your knees. You felt helpless and trapped. You didn't know how to undo this and go back home; heck, you didn't even know how you had gotten there in the first place. You had no money, no place to stay, no clothes, no one. You were stuck with The Beatles who you couldn't even rely on in fear something went wrong and to be truly honest, you didn't really want to anyway. Nothing was the same. You didn't know how to feel grounded in a place you didn't know.

You slipped your hands under your dress' skirt, hoping to warm up a bit, and your eyes lit up. You quickly grabbed at the cellphone your had kept and held under your clothes in fear that anyone would find it. Would it still work? You pressed at the power button and a white light emerged from the phone, and you sighed out of happiness, not believing such a fragile thing had survived the lake dive. You thanked god for the big waterproof jacket you had been wearing.

There was no service, obviously. But your photos, your messages, everything was there. Your eyes observed every memory left from your previous life you didn't know if you'd ever go back to. You laughed in between tears at a silly video of your cat you had taken just before leaving home that day. You scrolled through the last messages your mom had sent, hating yourself for not replying to her ever on time. 'What's that?'

You freaked out and jumped up, locking your phone and quickly hiding it behind your back. John stared at you in confusion, a slight distrust for the first time. 'What?'

'That bright thing you were just looking at,' with each step he took closer to you, you took one back. John stopped. 'YN, I saw it.' You froze. If John realized what this was, everything would be ruined. You would have to explain everything and for sure he would think you had gone mad! Who knows what would happen. You'd get sent to a psych ward and the timeline of the universe would go to shit. You couldn't tell him.

'I was just playing with a lighter.' John stared at you.

'Oh yeah? Show me the lighter.' You gulped, standing still. Before you could realize what was happening, John wrapped his arms around you and started to try and grab at your phone.

'What are you doing?!' You screamed, and he covered your mouth with one hand and pulled at your phone with the other, letting go when he got what he wanted. You gasped for air, trembling as he stared down at the small black screen.

'What is this?'

'It's nothing,' you tried reaching for it but John pulled back. He clicked the home button and it suddenly lit up. You could feel the tension rising as you watched in silence as John stared at the cat photo on your lock screen and the time and date.

'What the bloody hell is this?' You sighed in panic, hiding your face with your hands.

'Please, just give it back,'

'Not until you tell me what this is!'

'Please, John,'

'Is this some kind of controlling machine? What?'

'Stop!' You raised your voice, shaking. 'It's a phone, alright?!'

'This is not a phone. I know damn well what phones look like, YN!'

'It's a future phone!'

John got quiet. 'What?'

'It's a phone from the future. Are you happy now?!' You felt tears filling your eyes in panic and frustration, finally able to pull the electronic back from his hands. 'I'm like, from the future,' John didn't move. 'And I don't know how I got here either, so don't ask, I just know one moment I was in 2019, and now I'm in fucking 1966, and that's a phone, and...' you gasped for air, sitting down on the grass in defeat. 'I'm not crazy, but you're gonna think I am, so go ahead, just get me locked up or whatever.' You stared at the ground. 'I don't even give a shit anymore.'

John sat on the grass too, and you both just stayed there in silence for a while. You were defeated; hiding who you were was the hardest thing you had ever done, and it had only been a day. You felt like all of the responsibility to keep the world together was on you. How would you keep on living if you had accidentally stopped The Beatles from ever existing like they did? How would you survive locked up in the 1960s?

'Can you show me how it works?' You looked up at John in disbelief. 'I'm not saying I believe it,' he mumbled, 'but I need proof for that.' Holding up your phone between the both of you, you unlocked it, handing it to John.

'It's a touch screen,' he stared at you blankly. 'You can just touch the screen to make it work.' He nodded small and tried to navigate the home screens. He clicked the camera icon and was startled when he saw his own face on the screen.

'What the,' you laughed for the first time in a while.

'Take a photo!' You clicked on the capture button and a very bad frontal photo of John was saved. He quickly clicked on the icon to look at it.

'Ugh,' he scrunched his nose. 'For the first time I managed to look rather bad in a photo.'

'John, YN?' you both heard Paul's voice call from inside the house. Your face went white as you quickly pulled the phone from John's hands and locked the screen, stuffing it back inside your dress. You turned to him and pulled at his shirt.

'You can't tell them about this,' you pleaded. 'I don't know what can happen...' John clenched his jaw and nodded, eyes wandering down to his palms where seconds ago was something so amazing he couldn't have pictured it even in his wildest dreams.

'Coming, mama,' John exclaimed as he sat up. You quickly followed him, and John abruptly turned before you even took two steps. 'I won't tell if you promise one thing.'

You sighed, sick and tired of John's little games. 'What?'

'You have to promise that you'll tell me everything.' You furrowed your brows.

'I can't possibly do that!'

'Do you want everyone to know who you really are?' You parted your lips in disbelief. 'I just want to know what the future is like.' You sighed.

'Fine.'

'What took you so long?' Paul finally stepped out to the patio, approaching you too. He eyed John. 'Did you apologize?'

'Yeah,' He looked back at you, and you nodded in confirmation. Paul smiled, rubbing your arm caringly.

'Good. How are you feeling, YN?'

'I'm fine, don't worry.' You gave him a soft smile. Paul had been very caring ever since he had found you and there was a part of you that felt bad that you hadn't told him who you really were. But it was too early and too dangerous, and John already knew, who knows what reaction Paul would have. Despite all this, you wanted to let him know you appreciated every little thing he had done for someone he barely knew. 'Thank you,' you cracked out awkwardly. Paul smiled and John uttered a 'dear god'.

'No worries, love.'

*****

'Here's the guest bedroom,' Paul gestured, placing a shirt and some shorts on top of the sheets. 'And you can use this as your pajamas,' he grinned. 'Sorry, I usually sleep naked so I don't have proper pajamas, really.' He propped his hands on his waist. 'Well, that's that,' he stepped back to the door where you still stood, too nervous to go anywhere near a bed and him. You gazed at each other, and Paul's lips drew a soft, nervous smile. 'And you know, if you need anything,' his hand slowly reached for yours, holding it softly. 'You just call for me, okay?' You gulped, staring at his awfully puppy-like eyes, nodding. 'Anytime really,' you felt your face reddening, and so did he, cracking a brighter smile. 'I'll come right up.' You could feel how intense the tension between you was, and you quickly drew your hand back from his.

'Good night, Paul.' You quickly said, closing the door behind you.


End file.
